


ripped down from the brownstones to the streets

by acid_glue234



Series: you're just another song and dance [5]
Category: Glee
Genre: Angst, F/F, Fluff, Friendship, Humor, Mild Language, New York City, Unrequited Crush, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-17
Updated: 2014-05-31
Packaged: 2018-01-25 09:58:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1644656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acid_glue234/pseuds/acid_glue234
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's only been a week since their kiss, and Rachel's already driving herself insane about it; whether or not it meant more, whether or not Santana regrets it, whether or not Santana even remembers it happened in the first place. (Part V of the "you're just another song and dance" series, Rachel's POV)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. and the truth bleak as a bee

**Author's Note:**

> This is what happens before Kurt comes home, just so you know where we are in the timeline.

Santana Lopez is a lot of things. She is oblivious. She is unaware. She is heedless. She is unsuspecting. She is unmindful. And she is practically blind to how many women like her for her, not because of her sex appeal, or firm body, or irresistibly sultry voice.

Rachel tries to see it from Santana’s perspective. She tries to put herself into Santana’s shoes, which, mind you, is not an easy thing to do, especially considering Santana's tendency to shut down. It is maddening trying to figure her out; although Santana is not particularly abnormal, she can definitely be a struggle to understand.

Most of the time, Santana is like an open book. Her pages are easy to turn, her words are in plain English, and it’s usually a nice, easy read. But then, other times, Santana is...well, she’s a cardboard box. Rachel’s been—not creeping, per se—but observing from afar, and she’s written down a diagnosis in her music composition book (which Santana would never go through because of her loathing desire to ever be reminded of her days as a violinist) to help explain Santana’s _thing_.

_Complex and lost, a prisoner to thought, honest and strong, yet lacking the ability to appropriately express true feelings and deep emotions. Intelligent to the point of boredom in regard to the people that surround her._

_Constantly dwelling in a multi-contemplative state of mind whereas life passes by without a care, thus resembling an overflowing cup with the mindset of a glass half empty world. Refusing to react to change; all that remains is misunderstanding._

Rachel puts it down to her roommate’s intensity and this peculiar need to unveil hidden wonders about Santana that feed her infatuation. _Yes_ , Santana makes her blush, and _yes_ , Rachel forgets where she is sometimes when Santana smiles at her, but it's just a momentary lapse in emotional judgment. 

Not love, just a mere crush. She's addicted to the thrill of it. Santana's different. Her words have two meanings; she speaks in a language where everything meaningful goes unsaid, and everything said is therefore bluntly offensive.

Santana shares her love via insults. Talking to Santana is like trying to solve a puzzle, unveil a secret, expose a lethal weapon used in a government operative.

The psychology of Rachel’s infatuation is just one of the many reasons she’s so enraptured by her roommate. Talking to Santana is like trying to read a map that’s been ripped in half. There are questions but no answers. There are places and destinations without instructions on how to even get there.

Santana can be so open and touchable, yet at the same time, so unattainable and hard to reach.

Rachel can’t help it. Whenever she gets a crush on someone, it becomes this obsession to discover what it is about this person that makes her tick. It’s been this way since high school, though this is the first time a girl has been the center of her affection.

It’s different, of course, but Rachel’s not going to lie and say she’s struggling with this new idea that she might be bisexual or something. Rachel’s attracted to organic green tea, so this newfound discovery of her fluidity is mostly no big deal. What is a big deal? Recognizing this fluidity at the same time she comes to terms with her attraction to Santana. Now that’s a big deal.

\--

Throughout the last month, promises have somehow become their thing—which Rachel thinks is never a great way to start off a friendship; she already knows she's not exactly the best at keeping promises. 

She was, after all, the person who convinced Finn over and over again that her going to New York wouldn't ruin them. She was the person who promised they'd always be together despite her dreams and ambitions. She was the one who told him that they would speak to each other every day without fail once she moved to the city, but obviously that was a lie too, considering two straight weeks once went by without either of them making an effort to call.

Promises have never been Rachel's strong suit, but Santana? That girl is made up of promises. Promises to Brittany, mostly, that she never once failed to come through with. Santana's promises are lock and key. They are bolted shut.

It actually means something to Santana when she takes somebody's pinky and squeezes tight, which should probably give Rachel hope when it comes to their friendship, but anything beyond that? Rachel's afraid most of Santana's affection still belongs to Brittany Pierce, or maybe even Cole now, considering the amount of time those two have been spending together ever since Cole got back from Europe.

Neither she nor Santana have spoken about the unspeakable kiss. They haven’t hinted at it, referred to it, or even attempted a reenactment. Basically, Santana sticking her tongue down Rachel’s throat is one of those taboo topics you just don't think about nor bring up or else all hell breaks loose.

It's been like walking on pins and needles ever since that night; for Rachel, at least. While Santana pretends to act as if nothing ever happened, Rachel can't erase the taste of Santana's lips from her mouth, and she's not entirely sure she wants to.

Santana obviously only kissed her because it was New Year’s Eve, and because she was drunk on wine. It meant nothing to her, because that exact morning after, Santana had left their apartment to pick up Cole from the airport, and she didn't come home until seven hours later with a very noticeable bruise on the front of her neck. 

Either Santana got punched in the throat by a hobo, or she was out with Cole doing stuff Rachel would rather not think about. 

It's gotten to the point where Rachel can only try her best to do what Santana's been doing since that night. She pretends as if it never happened (which is probably one of the hardest things she’s ever tried to do in her life).

It works for a while, too—pretending to forget by distracting herself with other things, like teaching herself how to cook and jogging around the city and cleaning out her closet—but then she goes and does something stupid like opening up the cupboards, and then she sees the half empty jar of peanut butter she and Santana shared that night, and then everything just comes flooding back to her memory like a...well, like a bitch.

It's only been a week since their kiss, and Rachel's already driving herself insane about it; whether or not it meant more, whether or not Santana regrets it, whether or not Santana even remembers it happened in the first place.

Or maybe the explanation to Rachel’s questions is a lot simpler than she thinks. Maybe Santana's just a big flirt who kisses whoever she wants because she’s a badass, because she’s allowed to, and it’s not like anyone sane would ever complain about it.

Really, it could be a myriad of things, but Rachel never asks. If it was no big deal to Santana, Rachel doesn't want to seem too needy or clingy about it. She's already crushing on her best friend, the last thing she wants is have Santana find out.

What would Santana even do if she ever learned of Rachel’s very conflicted feelings? Rachel doubts she ever wants to find out. It'd probably be weird at first, and then, knowing Santana, she'd make a joke about it and use it to her advantage. 

Rachel doesn't want to assume Santana would be mean, but then there's what happened in high school. _This_ Santana may not be as cruel as she was back then, but she's still Santana. She has no filter, and she can still be pretty hurtful at times without even realizing it, and Rachel knows she wouldn't be able to continue living in this apartment knowing Santana knows. 

It's a mess, and Rachel just wishes she had better control of her emotions. She wishes she could approach Santana, be honest about how she feels, how that kiss made her feel, and then they could have a nice talk about it like two mature adults. 

Except Rachel is only 18. She's barely an adult, and although Santana's five months older than her, Rachel doubts they'd be able to figure this out like normal, civilized humans. 

She already knows what would happen. First, it'd be awkward; they'd tiptoe around each other, sharing fleeting glances and holding their breath whenever they'd get too close to touching each other.

Then, somehow, it would stem into some kind of irrelevant argument; Santana will continue to barge in on Rachel in the shower or in her room, and Rachel will come up with eloquent speeches about how they can't see each other naked anymore now that she has feelings and such. Santana will scoff and roll her eyes. Rachel will huff and stomp her foot. One of them will eventually end up storming off, and _fin_.

Rachel doesn't want any of that to happen, so she keeps her mouth shut, and she goes through the day to day motions of acting as civil as possible whenever Santana pretends as if she never randomly stuck her tongue down Rachel's throat.

It may not be the best, most productive plan, but it's a plan nonetheless.

\--

Sometimes crushes hurt more than love, because not only are you unsure of where you stand with your feelings, but you also don't know how far they go. Where does it start? Where does it end? Will it _ever_ end? 

Rachel's come to the conclusion that her mind is not a safe place. Whenever she thinks about certain things, she tends to go overboard and rehash situations and circumstances until her thoughts are these jumbled up messes of confusion. 

It's come to this; she can't even imagine what it'd be like without Santana in her life, and that can't be a good thing at all. It's only been five months, but she's already become so dependent upon Santana and her stupid smile and those dumb dark eyes of hers.

It's everything about the girl, and Rachel tells herself to cut it out. She tells herself she's crazy to ever develop feelings for Santana because she's _Santana_. She’s annoying and sarcastic and vulgar. But underneath all of that, she’s also honest and endearing and sensitive and her heart is so much bigger than what most people give her credit for.

She makes breakfast for Rachel in the morning (and it’s weird, because Santana always knows exactly what she’s in the mood for), and Santana always finds a way to make Rachel smile when she’s upset (and Rachel has been upset a lot lately, especially since starting dance classes again), and Santana never stops trying to get things right (even when she truly, truly sucks at it).

This shouldn't even be a problem. Rachel should like Daniel and his chiseled physique. She should be attracted to his charming smile and light eyes. His rosy cheeks whenever she makes him blush should have her heart beating irregularly, but all of that has been pushed aside and saved for Santana.

It should be so simple, except somewhere along the lines, someone changed the rules. Not only has her heart suffered, but all logical thought has been flushed down the toilet. The things Rachel’s always been sure of now make no sense at all. Her heart and mind aren't computing, syncing, or connecting, and it sucks. 

"You're smiling." 

"Huh?" 

Santana smirks, cheeks puffed out as she tries to swallow. "You're smiling at me," she repeats, slowly setting down her sandwich. "What, do I have crumbs on my face or something?" 

They're out to lunch at this Italian Bistro Santana discovered last week on her way back from Cole's place. There's a lot of things Rachel never knew about Santana, one of them being that her roommate loves food. She's almost like an amateur connoisseur when it comes to discovering new places and tasting different types of food, and it obviously doesn't hurt that Santana's a bottomless pit. She can literally eat whatever she wants without gaining a pound. 

Had it been two years ago, Rachel would’ve been beyond envious of this knowledge, but now all she can do is secretly admire Santana's toned figure and unattainable beauty.

"Um," Rachel stalls, eyes darting sideways. "No, I was just thinking about something that happened earlier." 

Santana hums under her breath as she takes another bite out of her sandwich. "What happened?" 

"Oh, nothing really." Rachel finds herself staring at Santana's lips as she chews. "Angela made this joke, and yeah..." Her eyes remain glued to those perfect lips until a husky voice snaps her out of her thoughts.

Furrowed eyebrows rise slowly. "Well, I'm waiting," Santana drawls, smiling crookedly. "C'mon, I'd like to laugh too. What was so funny?"

What Rachel _wants_ to happen:

"Knock, knock," she says.

"Who's there?"

"My heart."

"My heart who?"

"My heart is slowly breaking in half because of you."

What _really_ happens:

"Knock, knock," she says.

"Who's there?"

"Interrupting cow."

"Interrupt—"

"MOO!"

The sad thing is Santana actually laughs.

The sadder thing is Rachel’s heart kind of melts spectacularly at the sound of her laughter.

\--

Santana’s attention to detail is impeccable. She doesn't miss a thing (except for the obvious fact Rachel is crushing on her). The quick wit she utilizes to her advantage in situations of vulnerability continuously fortifies the immense amount of thought she encapsulates. 

(Rachel pauses to take a breath. She’s getting exasperated, which apparently makes her verbose. That’s what Santana says, anyway. Apparently Rachel uses big words and speaks in long-winded, eloquent sentences whenever something frustrates her enough, and look, it’s happening right now.)

Brown eyes travel up to the night sky. In Lima, you can see the stars. In New York, all you can see are blinking lights that fly across a dark platform until they’re too far away to even exist. Rachel shivers in her turtleneck sweater, because she didn’t have the stomach to last a few more seconds in order to grab her coat before Santana and Cole were already going at each other behind Santana’s curtain.

Rachel breathes out again and tries not to think about what’s going on a couple floors beneath her. The thoughts are torture, but they keep her close to reality; the fact that she is not and probably won’t ever be what Santana wants.

Despite what most would presume, there’s not only a philosophical side to this attraction. The physical side is there and it’s apparent and it is waiting, and Rachel has long decided to stop fighting against how Santana makes her feel, but only physically. She’s read up more on those lesbian blog sites, seeking answers in a more private setting (her curtain-enclosed room whenever Santana’s out with Cole, or working at Cobblestones).

Rachel’s now made it a habit that whenever she enters those sapphic websites, she always leaves the shame out of her curtain, because it’s only natural to be curious about her body and what it wants, and lately it’s been wanting Santana, which should definitely mortify her.

It should scare the shit out of her, but instead of hyperventilating and pacing and calling her dads for help, Rachel’s accepted it. Thinking about Santana in _that_ way kind of thrills her. It’s new and exciting and...titillating; the thought of what Santana can do, how she can touch, where she could lick and poke and stroke and…

It's no one's secret Santana is very good-looking. She's naturally beautiful, voluptuously attractive, wickedly and sinfully alluring, and it’s all real. Smooth skin, full lips, white teeth, slim figure. She's gorgeous, outwardly, which is an intoxicant all on its own. Add the perfect flaws of her personality into the mix and Santana is impossible not to adore.

A lot of people don't get the chance—or the fond opportunity—to get to know Santana, because sadly, so many of them are repelled by her wicked tongue and snide remarks before she can even win them over. But if they'd just look a _little_ closer, open their eyes a _little_ wider, listen a _little_ longer, they'd meet someone so sincere and lovable they'd have no other choice but to fall for her, and fall _hard_. 

\--

There are many things Rachel hates about this situation, but the worst thing has to be how low her self-esteem as dropped since finally acknowledging said situation. If she’s not good enough for her own best friend—who usually has pretty okay taste in women—then what is Rachel to her? Chopped liver?

It’s been weeks since she’s owned up to how she feels, but this infatuation only becomes a problem when she finds herself spending most of her off time thinking about what it'd be like to touch those perfect lips again with her own, wondering if Santana's ever thought of her in _that_ way, musing about the many times it seemed as if Santana was flirting with her or coming on to her.

Rachel thinks about it on the subway _before_ vocal class. She thinks about it _during_ vocal class. She thinks about it on her walk to Cobblestones _after_ vocal class. 

She makes Santana a priority when she herself is not even an option. Her roommate has suddenly invaded every part of her mind and thoughts, and Rachel knows that she's going to have to do something about it sooner rather than later. Something drastic. 

She calls Angela. 

\--

"I knew it, I knew it, I knew it! Oh my god, I _knew_ it!"

“Ssh, Angela!”

Maybe it would've been wiser to agree to meet Angela at a more private location. Rachel averts her eyes, embarrassed as a few students look their way with annoyed expressions. Even a librarian puts a finger to her lips to shush them, but Angela only rolls her eyes.

"I wish the people in here would just mind their own damn business and study," she complains in a loud, stage whisper. Rachel tries to hide behind her textbook, hoping to dodge the irritated looks being sent her way. Angela only laughs and says, "So, you're in love with Santana Lopez."

Rachel blanches. It's a bit disconcerting how Angela can say that as if it's a known fact or something. "Not _love_ ," she mutters lowly, eyeing their table with a thoughtful frown. "It's...it's an infatuation."

Angela looks at her like she wants to call bullshit. "Okay, so you don't love her, but you wanna have sex with her?"

"Angela," Rachel chokes, blushing from head to toe. "That's—I don't—I think you're confusing the word infatuation with lust."

"Okay, fine, but you still didn't answer my question. Do you wanna have sex with her or not?"

"I—" Honestly, Rachel hasn't really thought about whether or not she'd _actually_ have sex with Santana if ever given the chance. She’s thought about sex as a whole, but with Santana? God. Her roommate is attractive and of course very knowledgeable when it comes to the female anatomy and how certain functions function, but would Rachel ever _seriously_ go there with her if she had the opportunity? "I don't know," she mumbles, eyes downcast.

" _Rachel_."

"Maybe? I mean, I haven't really thought that far ahead yet.” She winces through her lie, feeling entirely inexperienced when it comes to talking about _this_ stuff aloud. Somehow, whenever her mind goes _there_ , it feels as if she's breaking Santana's trust by imagining such deeds taking place. Closing her eyes, Rachel shrugs a shoulder and ignores the heat rising to her cheeks. "Of course I've thought about sex with her, okay? But those are just stupid fantasies. What’s conflicting is how she makes me feel."

Pursing her lips, Angela nods thoughtfully. "Okay. Explain it to me." 

It suddenly feels as if she's talking to a therapist rather than one of her friends, and perhaps that should set off a few alarms, but Rachel eventually convinces herself that pretending to talk to someone she barely knows could somehow make this easier to discuss.

Rachel rolls her tongue over her front teeth. "Well, when she looks at me, my throat gets all dry and it feels like I have to swallow, but I can't because my throat is dry," she reiterates needlessly, brushing a strand of hair out of her face with a dreamy smile. "Her touch makes my skin all warm and flushed, and when she laughs, I just... _melt_."

"Hm. Okay." Angela nods as if she understands, and maybe she does, but right now it feels as if Rachel's the only one in the world going through this shit. 

Not only is she questioning her feelings for a very close friend of hers, but she's also questioning her sexuality, which is a whole other thing in itself. 

Digging into her bag, Angela pulls out a paperback book and slides it across the table. "Here."

Skeptical, Rachel takes the book and stares at the cover. "What is this?"

"You know how to read, don't you?"

Rachel clamps her mouth shut to refrain from saying anything snide in response. It would only cause them to banter back and forth, and right now Rachel's more concerned with fixing her problem rather than arguing with Angela over nothing. 

She looks at the book and resists the urge to roll her eyes at the title. _Unlove_ by Spencer Wright. Rachel turns the book over to find a small passage; _Love is patient. Love is kind. Love means slowly losing your mind_. 

She doesn't know how many times she's going to have to repeat this, but, "I told you I'm not in love with her."

"Yeah, yeah, I _know_ ," Angela says, sounding way too amused. She smiles teasingly. "They didn't have a book on how to fall out of crush, so this is the best we've got."

Rachel sighs and continues to look over the book. There's nothing on the back about the author. It's impossible to tell whether a man or a woman wrote the book, and Rachel wonders if that should even matter, especially now that she has feelings for another woman. 

Maybe it'd be easier to just find something online that would more directly deal with her circumstance, but Angela obviously went through a lot of trouble to find this book, so Rachel is grateful. Maybe not for the book, but definitely for such a good friend. 

Rachel flips through the pages dubiously. "Do you really think this is going to work?"

"It's either this," Angela gestures to the book dismissively, "or a spell book I found that could erase every single memory you've ever had of San—"

"Okay," Rachel interrupts, eyes wide. Although this is a sticky situation, the last thing she wants is to have her brainwaves altered. "Let's just stick with this book."

"Good choice." Angela grins, and then juts her chin towards the book. "What's the first step?"

Brown eyes scan over the page dolefully. This is so stupid and a complete waste of time, but she goes along with it anyway. Angela's actually trying to help, so the least Rachel can do is cooperate and play along. "Accept that you are hurt," she sighs, reading the title of the first chapter.

Angela hums, tapping her nails against the table. "Well, have you accepted it yet?"

"I—I think so."

"Do you..." She waits a moment, blue eyes narrowly trained on Rachel, "feel any different?"

Rachel squints, and then shakes her head. "Not really."

"Does your heart feel any less heavy?"

"As opposed to what?"

Angela shrugs. "As opposed to three minutes ago."

"No, Angela." Rachel breathes out a sigh as she anxiously bends the corner of a page. "I feel exactly the same as I did before opening this book."

"Okay, fine," she mutters, raising her hands at Rachel's defensive tone. "What else does it say?"

Rachel continues to read, "It is important to know that what you are feeling is normal. Everyone has suffered from heartbreak once in their life, so know now that you are not alone." 

Funny, because it sure feels like she is, considering Santana's always at Cole's place, and Kurt's always with Henry. Of course she has Angela and Daniel, and they've both made it pretty clear they care about her, but it still hurts that Santana and Kurt—the two people she considers her best friends—can so easily leave her behind for people they just met not even three months ago, while they've known Rachel for practically ever. 

"That said," Rachel continues, hands gripping the edge of the book a little tighter than necessary, "Now that you've accepted the hurt, let it be known that it is okay to be sad for a while." 

She peers up from under her eyelashes and takes a deep breath when Angela nods at her to continue. Furrowing her eyebrows, she keeps reading.

\--

 _You are letting go of someone you love. Draining your heart is never a fun thing. When falling in love is so beautiful and blissful, falling out of love is obviously the opposite. Nursing your open wounds and accepting that you're going to have to emotionally move on is a significant step to this process_.

Goodness, this book is depressing. She's still only on the first step and the words have already reduced her to tears. But she shouldn't be crying because this isn't even a big deal. Hurricane Sandy was a big deal. October’s city-wide blackout was a big deal. This—her incomprehensible emotions—is not what most would call a big deal or a dire emergency.

But it _is_. It is to her, anyway. There's just something about Santana that makes Rachel crazy in the best of ways and the worst of ways. She doesn't know when it started exactly, or even _why_ it started, but it's there, and it's slowly driving Rachel insane. 

_Love is patient. Love is kind. Love means slowly losing your mind._

It's haunting her in her dreams and thoughts and nightmares, and Rachel would do anything at this point to just forget about it. Only, when Santana kissed her the other night, all that did was gratify her feelings, make them bigger, stronger, more prominent than they were before, and now all Rachel wants to do is kiss those lips again, tell Santana how she feels, tell her that every time they're together she can't help but stare, or whenever Santana talks—even if it's about something really stupid and irrational—Rachel can't help but be totally engaged in the conversation. 

She thinks about Santana constantly now, and she's even beginning to wonder if maybe this _is_ love. She claimed to be in love with Finn, and even that feeling wasn't as intense as this. 

Maybe it's the mystery and timing in all of this. Rachel _shouldn't_ have these feelings. Santana's her best friend. She's her fucking roommate. Santana's a girl, and Rachel isn't even attracted to other women. This has to be something else she's feeling, but every time she tries to tell herself that, Santana appears with that crooked smile, and everything around Rachel falls apart. 

Nothing is real anymore. She's floating in a world of make-believe and now anything is possible. Loving Santana is possible. Being more than her friend is possible. Kissing Santana whenever she feels like it is possible. Anything is possible until Santana is gone again and Rachel has time to think about everything she's feeling, and goodness gracious, isn't this ridiculous?

This is the question Rachel always ends up asking herself. She doubts herself and her feelings and her own heart. She calls herself ridiculous, because that’s the only explanation as to why she’s acting this way, right?

 _Right_?

A creak in the floorboards alerts Rachel to the footsteps approaching her curtain. She quickly shuts her book and tosses it under the covers when the shuffling starts to get closer. (Damn, she's even memorized the heaviness and pattern of Santana's stride. This is some kind of unbearable.) 

"Okay, so Cole and I were thinking about going out to this sushi restaurant where you have to eat off of _naked_ people.” Santana bursts right through Rachel's curtain, without so much as a warning (which, well, Rachel should probably be used to that by now). " _Naked_ people!" Santana continues, eyes wide in excitement. "Which is just sick, like, this city is in-fucking-credible, and Rachel, you know I can't miss out on _that_ , and I was thinking, you _love_ sushi, so you have to—...what's wrong?" 

Sniffling, Rachel wipes at her stinging eyes and tries to smile. "Nothing's wrong," she says weakly, and then grimaces, because that was probably the worst lie she’s told recently. Nothing’s not wrong when _everything_ is wrong.

Rachel hates that beautifully alarmed look in Santana’s expression when her face drops. "Your eyes are all red and your cheeks are flushed," she points out, stepping cautiously into the room. Rachel turns her head toward her window and wills the rest of her unshed tears away. "Either you were just crying, or you're higher than the Empire State Building, but since I know you'd never do anything to jeopardize your health, you must've been crying. Who do I have to cut?"

Rachel smiles, tight-lipped. "Santana, it's okay. I just need a moment,” _or a month, maybe_ , but despite her reassurances, Santana's eyes only narrow further. "I'm fine. I promise."

Santana’s eye soften at the word ‘promise’, because promises are sort of their thing, but she still looks unsure. "This isn't about Finn, is it?" she asks tiredly, cocking her hip to the side. "Because if he's still texting you, I swear to God I'll go down to Lima myself and cut off—"

Rachel sits up straight and wipes at the dry tears under her eyes. "It's not about Finn. It's..." _about you_ , she fails to confess. Admitting her feelings would only result in more confusion and more embarrassment, so Rachel lets out a long sigh in order to calm her nerves and backtrack. "I suppose I'm just a little bit homesick. It's almost been five months since I've last seen my fathers, and I guess I took not seeing them over the holidays harder than I thought."

Santana's taut expression softens in fragments as a small smile quirks at the corner of her lips. She takes a step closer to the bed, because she thinks Rachel wants comfort and attention and a shoulder to cry on. She's being a good best friend by not writing Rachel's feelings off as stubborn ludicrousness, and she's also being a good person in general by offering a hand to hold, but what Rachel really needs is to be alone right now. 

According to _Unlove_ , it's the only way she'll ever be able to get over her roommate, but then Santana sits on the edge of the bed and wraps Rachel up in a tight hug.

Rachel instantly knows she can't do anything but slide her arms around Santana's waist and squeeze back, her face cradled in between Santana's neck and shoulder. Inhaling through her nose, Rachel closes her eyes at that familiar coffee bean scent. 

It's kind of the last thing she wanted and the first thing she needed. 

\--

Rachel is many things right now. Cold is one of them, because Santana always fails to close the window to the fire escape whenever she comes back in from her smoke breaks. Confused is another one of the things. She's not even questioning her own feelings anymore, because there's no point in that. Not when it's quite obvious that she's crushing hard on her own roommate.

What she's confused about now is Santana's feelings. It's probably a stupid thing to wonder—whether or not Santana likes her back—but then there's that kiss that was never really explained. Not only that, but Santana's kind of made it a bad habit of doing things and saying things that have Rachel questioning whether or not Santana's coming onto her.

There's been all of these mixed signals and flirtatious smiles being directed at her, and Rachel can't for the life of her tell if Santana's actually flirting with her, or if it's just all in Rachel's mind.

Maybe she's just imagining it could be more when Santana compliments how nice her ass looks whenever she wears a certain pair of jeans. Maybe it's just a big misunderstanding when Santana stands really close behind Rachel and rests a chin on her shoulder as she bakes cookies in the kitchen for them. Maybe Rachel’s overthinking what it means whenever Santana plays with her hair and scratches at her scalp like a lover would while they're watching movies on the couch together. It must be Rachel’s mind playing tricks on her whenever Santana's touching her, opening doors for her, ordering her favorite Thai takeout, and buying her those perfectly succulent strawberries she loves every time it's Santana's turn to go grocery shopping.

Santana strokes Rachel's hand when painting her nails. Santana shares her food with Rachel whenever she's eating something she thinks Rachel would like. Santana plays with Rachel’s fingers and always looks deep within her eyes whenever they talk. She does all of these things, and while Rachel loves these things, she knows that Santana's doing them all unknowingly.

Santana's treating her like a girlfriend, because other than Quinn, she's never known anything else. She's used to catering to and caring for her best friend, and now that that person is Rachel, she's switched gears and is doing the same things she used to do with Brittany.  

But that doesn't mean Santana likes her _in that way_ , and it doesn't mean Santana thinks of her as more than a friend. Rachel knows that.

Which is why it's so hard for her to begin the next step in her stupid book. 

\--

_2\. Cut off as many ties with this person as possible._

She follows the step quite abruptly, because the quicker she reads through this book and lets go of her feelings for Santana, the faster they can go back to being normal friends who don't flirt with each other or kiss each other or hold hands in the street. 

Obviously following this step isn’t going to play out exactly how the book intended since she can’t really cut off too many ties seeing as Santana’s her roommate, but Rachel does what she can, and it’s always the initiative that counts anyway, right?

First, Rachel stops going into the bathroom when Santana's in the shower. She also makes it a habit to lock the door whenever she's bathing. If Santana notices, she doesn't say so. The expression on her face says it all when Rachel comes out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her body, and Santana’s scowling like a hawk.

Rolling her eyes, Santana eyes Rachel's towel before muttering something about having to pee as she slips through the threshold and slams the bathroom door closed. 

After three more days of the same routine, Santana still must not get the hint. When Rachel's in the shower, she can hear pounding on the wooden door, but she ignores it until Santana starts yelling, "Let me in, Berry. My bladder is about to explode!" 

Knowing Santana's only being her normal dramatic self, Rachel continues to take her time in the shower, and then once she's finally done with her bathroom routine, she opens the door to find Santana fuming on the other side. 

"What the hell," she hisses, pushing past Rachel and into the bathroom, not even bothering to shut the door as she pulls down her pants and sits on the toilet. Wrapping her towel around her armpits tighter, Rachel tries to make a quick escape to her curtain, but then Santana's voice stops her. "Rach, get in here. What the fuck is your problem?"

She makes it a point to wait until Santana's wiped and washed her hands before re-entering the bathroom and leaning her bare shoulder against the doorframe. 

Santana catches her eye at the sink. "So?"

Rachel clears her dry throat. "I just think we should have more boundaries. You know I've always liked my privacy and, well..."

"And what?" Santana quirks a perfect eyebrow, crossing her arms under her breasts. _Braless_ breasts, Rachel can't help but notice. She swallows hard and tries to focus her eyes elsewhere, but Santana's still staring at the side of her face, trying to figure her out. "Look, if you're touching yourself in the shower, just say so, and I'll make sure to wake up earlier so I don't wet myself, okay?"

Blushing, Rachel sputters unattractively, and then frantically shakes her head. "I—what? No, I am _not_ touching myself. I admit it's been awhile since...well, it's been _awhile_ , but I would never—"

"Wait. Hold the fucking phone," Santana blurts, eyes sparkling with mischief. "You've _never_..." 

She raises her eyebrows suggestively, and Rachel continues to shake her head, yet she's not sure why, because she has definitely touched herself before. "I—I don't want to have this discussion," she says instead, refusing to answer the unasked question. 

Santana only grins wider before shrugging a shoulder and waving her hand dismissively. "Fine, whatever. It's none of my business anyway. Just remember, we only have one bathroom, and I'm not a freaking camel, so maybe try to rub faster." Santana barks out a laugh and then rushes to correct herself, saying, "Scrub! Sorry. I meant to say _scrub_ faster."

Rachel can only roll her eyes as she turns away from the bathroom. "No you didn't," she calls over her shoulder. 

"You're right," she hears from behind her. "I didn't."

That beautiful bitch.

 


	2. 'cause there's beauty in being alone

Kurt comes back the following Monday. He's excited to see her, which is a huge relief to Rachel, who's been feeling pretty lonely lately now that she's doing her absolute best to avoid Santana at all costs.

After hugging tightly by the baggage claim, Kurt suggests they get something to eat, and that's how they end up at a sub shop inside the airport, discussing their individual holidays and exes and old friends and whatever else comes up in the conversation.

Santana's name slips in somehow, after Kurt mentions something about how their roommate has no personal boundaries or sense of privacy. Despite the truth in his words, Rachel finds herself defending Santana. He doesn't know Santana like she does, so where does he get off judging her?

Santana's not the same girl she was in high school, but no matter what Rachel says to support her friend, Kurt still seems to be stuck on the idea that people don't change; only situations and circumstances do, apparently.

Rachel doesn't agree. Well, to a certain extent. If Kurt is right, and people really don't change, then maybe Santana was always this sensitive and gentle all along, and it was just the impact of high school that had her so guarded and vicious. Regardless and whatever the reason, Santana is Santana, and to Rachel she's perfect just the way she is, flaws and all.

Kurt spends an unnatural amount of time—more than Rachel would like to listen to, really—talking about Santana and how she doesn't know how to mind her own business. Though Rachel wants to argue against this, it's actually kind of true.

Santana really doesn't understand the meaning of boundaries. She's an _all up in your face_ kind of person. She likes the attention on her, and she'll do anything to get it. If Rachel thought she was an attention hog, well...Santana could certainly give her a run for her money.

Strangely, that's one of the many things Rachel adores about Santana most. She likes to pretend she's this big, tough girl, but Santana loves hugs and holding hands just as much as the next girl. She's an incredible softy who's admittedly afraid of the dark, likes to dance to weird music whenever she cooks, and has a rainbow cow named ToMac back home in Lima.

She's a very _loving_ person; it’s the word Rachel ends up using to describe Santana, but all that does is make Kurt laugh sarcastically. "Santana? Loving?" he sputters, sorely amused, because he's never witnessed the soft sides of Santana like Rachel has. "I doubt she's even interested in her own feelings, never mind yours."

And then Kurt laughs again, completely ignorant to the fact that Rachel's heart kind of just deflated and died, right along with her silly hopes for something downright impossible.

Right. Now she remembers. That's why she keeps him around. Where she's a dreamer, Kurt's a realist, and he keeps her grounded. Rachel's going to need as much of that as possible in order to keep her head out of the clouds and her heart out of Santana's unpredictable hands.

\--

They get back to the loft, and the questions about Santana don't stop. "So, where is the little devil?" Kurt asks, looking around the loft as if he's expecting her to just pop out of nowhere.

Shrugging a shoulder, Rachel feigns disinterested and tells him that Santana's probably out with Cole or something. It's hard to keep the disdain out of her voice when she relays this information, but she tries her best, and hopefully hiding this crush from everyone will turn out to be a good acting exercise for her in the long run.

Kurt is none the wiser as he goes on to explain why he doesn't think Cole is right for Santana—"She's mysteriously dull to the point of captivating," Kurt says, hitting the nail on the head with that personal analysis—and Rachel doesn't think she's ever loved Kurt as much as she does right now, because she couldn't agree more.

For a while she thought she was the only one who saw it—Rachel had even feared she was just enviously projecting these horrible traits onto Cole in order to make herself feel better—but goodness, it's nice to know she's not alone in her harsh opinions when it comes to the women Santana shares her bed with.

Rachel's just about to give Kurt a hug for being so smart when Santana walks through the door. Her eyes find Rachel's first, narrowed and bold, but she completely ignores her in favor of greeting Kurt. They hug so fast you'd blink and miss it—oddly, Santana's not too into touching people who aren't Rachel these days—and then they fall into their usual hostile banter.

Rachel watches from the kitchen counter, wishing she could join in, but knowing that if she doesn't stick to the rules of her stupid book she'll never get over Santana. Ignoring her roommate is the only solution for now, despite Santana's annoyance with her.

Santana walks through the kitchen, right past Rachel, and then reaches into the cupboards. Her hand weaves purposefully over the jar of peanut butter and grabs for a roll of crackers, causing Rachel to have a sour thought: If Santana paid half as much attention to her own roommate as she did her food, then she'd know by now just how much Rachel has fallen for her.

Ever since Rachel's insistence to bathe alone, neither she nor Santana have made much of an effort to talk to each other. Santana obviously knows it's not because she needs to _rub one out_ in the shower every morning—because honestly, who is that horny?—so there can only be one other explanation for why Rachel would choose to draw such a thick boundary line between them so suddenly, especially after they've been doing the same routine for over three months now.

Rachel knows Santana's not dumb. She had to have figured out by now that Rachel's recent avoidance has to have _something_ to do with the kiss they shared, but then...why hasn't Santana said anything about it yet?

Kurt's silent for a long moment after answering Santana's question about Henry, lending their roommate the opportunity to maliciously add, "Goody. Now there'll be enough buffers in the apartment now, huh, Rach?”

It's a mean comment to make, especially after everything they’ve been through together since coming to the city, but maybe Rachel deserves it.

It doesn't really matter anyway. Nothing she can say now will make any of this better, and nothing she can do will make any of this go away, so Rachel sucks up her pride and works hard to keep her expression neutral as she escapes to her bedroom.

A stagnant pause follows Rachel's departure, and then all she hears is Kurt say, "Whoa,” before she drowns out the world with her Billy Joel playlist.

\--

_3\. Reflect on the relationship_

She starts the journey down memory lane way farther than she probably has to, but maybe a reminder of how Santana used to treat her will do Rachel some good. After much deliberation and careful thought, she decides to begin her reflection during the summer before freshman year.

It was the first time she'd ever seen Santana Lopez. Rachel didn't know her name at the time, but word quickly spread around town about the new girl who would be enrolling at McKinley once school started.

"It's weird because I doubt Santana even remembers this,” Rachel says, looking up as Angela sips from her steaming cup of coffee. "But I do. I remember. She was riding her bike to the community pool when her tire hit a pothole and she fell right in front of my driveway."

Angela winces. "Was she hurt?"

"Just a small scrape on her elbow and a few bruises." It astounds her how much she suddenly remembers of that day. Practically five years has passed since then, but fresh memories bombard her mind all the same, as if it had just happened yesterday. "I remember she was embarrassed and jumped right back up despite the pain she was in. I tried to help her, but she just smiled and said she was fine."

"She probably had a crush on you," Angela teases, grinning cheekily.

Rachel smiles even though she knows it's very much unlikely. Sure, it's possible, considering Santana had been struggling with her attraction to girls since even before high school, but Rachel doubts their quick conversation triggered anything but embarrassment for Santana.

Curling a strand of hair behind her ear, Rachel looks down at the table and sighs. "I didn't see her again until like, the end of freshman year."

Their hometown is small, but the population of McKinley is huge. More than one thousand kids attend McKinley High yearly, so it's not like Rachel ran into the same group of people every day unless she shared a class with them.

"But then again, I didn't really see her face that day," Rachel recalls, mixing her tea with a stirring stick. "I'm afraid she was too occupied kissing Noah Puckerman under the bleachers when I passed the football field to notice me."

Angela balks, eyebrows raised to her hairline in complete disbelief. "Santana kissed _boys_? No way," she drawls, leaning into the table with interest, because apparently this conversation just got a lot more scandalous with the knowledge that Santana didn't always mack on girls and girls only. With a smirk, Rachel nods at Angela's astonishment. "That's hard to imagine now, especially since she's so..."

"Open?"

"Gay. I was gonna say super gay, but sure," Angela laughs, shrugging a shoulder. "Open works too."

Rachel rolls her eyes as she leans an elbow on the table. "Well, she wasn't always that way. Sophomore and junior year were specifically hard for her. Santana was really mean to mostly everyone except for Brittany."

"Brittany?"

"Her ex," _and true love_.

Angela nods. "Ah. Okay."

"Anyway," Rachel continues, waving her hand dismissively. "Santana was a Cheerio—Lima talk for popular cheerleader—and I was a theatre junkie."

"So, bottom feeder?"

"Exactly. She and Quinn made my life a living hell during those years." Rachel crinkles her nose at just the thought of how cruel they used to be, but now she knows it wasn't all about her. Quinn was having daddy issues at home while Santana was struggling with her identity. Rachel being so confident and sure of herself just made her the perfect target for such insecure, popular, teenage girls. "They posted demoralizing comments on my MySpace page, drew pornographic images of me on the bathroom stalls, knocked me around in the hallway—"

"And how did you become friends with these girls again?" Angela interrupts, slightly incredulous.

Rachel decides not to mention the fact that she and Quinn aren't really friends. After the whole train wreck wedding fiasco, the awkwardness between them only grew. Quinn didn't blame her for the accident, thankfully, but Rachel couldn't get over the fact that her delirious rush to get married almost killed somebody. The friendship she had hoped to build with Quinn kind of just crumbled and died after that.

Remembering Angela's earlier question, Rachel smiles crookedly, and then says, "Santana joined Glee club. She still didn't like me, but she liked singing enough to bear with me. Then over time, the demeaning insults slowly turned into sarcastic jokes." Rachel shrugs as she takes a sip of her peppermint tea. It warms her up, which definitely helps when talking about such a cold and bitter subject. "Santana's unconditional love for Brittany was slowly softening her by the end of junior year, aiding her in her quest to actually act like a considerate human being again."

It's a lot to digest—this is a five minute run-through of the last four years of Rachel's life, after all—so she allows Angela a minute to take all of that in. Angela's thoughtful for a moment, circling the top of her coffee cup with a nimble finger. "What about senior year? What happened then?"

Rachel's eyes lower to the table. "We didn't really talk much. I was too distracted with Finn and figuring out not only my own future but _his_ future as well," she says, rolling her eyes at that whole ordeal. She still can't believe she wasted so much time worrying about somebody else's future, even going so far as to consider rearranging her dreams for him once upon a time. "Meanwhile, Santana joined a different Glee club and was indirectly outed by my boyfriend, while trying to find a way to go to college, follow her dreams, and still be there for her academically challenged girlfriend all at the same time."

"Wow." Angela tilts her head sideways, doing her best to make sense of all this crazy. "Your school kind of sounds like an overdramatic TV show."

"The happenings in that school were both entertaining and unbearable simultaneously," Rachel agrees, smiling at the memories that come with reminiscing. However, her expression sobers with the next memory that crosses her mind. "By the end of senior year, Santana and I still weren't very close friends. We sang a duet together and I gave her a picture of myself to put in her locker, but neither of us really made any effort to stay close. Well, not until Santana showed up at the loft mid-September."

Angela smirks knowingly. "And the rest is history?"

Rachel releases a breath and nods. "The rest is history." Not only did Santana move into the loft and make it her own, but she also moved into Rachel's heart and took over that as well. She was like a tornado when she first arrived, destroying everything in her path. Post-Brittany is what she and Kurt had called it.

Rachel still doesn't really know if Santana's over her high school sweetheart. Do you really ever get over those people, or are they just forever there in the background, waiting to be compared to every single new person you meet? Even Rachel finds herself doing it sometimes. Everything Santana says or does, Rachel compares it to the things Finn used to say, the things Finn would do.

If Santana does the same exact thing with the girls she meets now, no one will ever have a chance in hell over Brittany S. Pierce.

Especially not Rachel.

\--

She arrives home from hanging out with Angela and Daniel at Callbacks to moaning and groaning coming from behind Santana's curtain.

Her stomach bottoms out, and she considers going back out, but there are two problems: (1) It's already past midnight, and (2) she has nowhere _to_ go.

Rachel hangs up her coat, and then digs through the cushions in the sofa for a pair of earphones.

The nauseating sound of her roommate having frenzied sex is drowned out by Coldplay, and Rachel sits on the couch with her knees drawn into her chest as she listens to the entire playlist, until Kurt comes home and makes a face at the sounds he's probably hearing.

Rachel mirrors his grimace and then scoots over to make room for him on the couch. At least somebody understands her pain. Maybe not fully, but he gets it in some capacity.

\--

_4\. Be alone for awhile_

The harder Rachel tries to ignore Santana, the more she ends up thinking about her.

Dance class starts up full-time again, which is good, because now she doesn't have to float around the apartment like a lost soul thinking about whether or not Santana knows, or whether or not Santana feels the same way. It's all just a waste of time, so Rachel's grateful she can now go back to her classes and use Miss July's predictably passionate diatribes about the importance of plies as a distraction.

The harder Rachel works in class, the easier it is to fend off thoughts of Santana, so Rachel works her freaking ass off, and it seems Miss July notices, because her compulsively obsessive desire to call Rachel out on every move she makes quickly goes from every class to every other class to basically non-existent.

Not only does her irate dance instructor notice a change in her initiative, but Daniel picks up on the change as well. One day, when Angela's sick and has to miss class, Daniel asks Rachel to be his dance partner. She only agrees because her usual partner has a bad habit of stepping on toes.

By now it's practically common knowledge that Daniel has the hugest crush on her, so when Rachel goes to take his hand and begin their warm up routine, almost the entire class breaks out into catcalls and wolf whistles.

This kind of childish, immature behavior would usually have Rachel rolling her eyes in irritation, but today when she sees a dark blush crawling up Daniel's neck as he bows his head bashfully, Rachel can't help but smile. It's actually kind of cute how red his cheeks are, so Rachel stomps down the urge to let go of his hand and go back to her old dance partner as the music starts up.

At the end of class, Daniel hesitantly approaches her as she gulps down a bottle of water. She smiles at him and quirks an eyebrow when he fails multiple times to speak up, but then he finally builds up the nerve to ask her out. His eyes are all bright in excitement and he's smiling like a five year old boy with a schoolyard crush, but damn, she hasn't even reached the 'moving on' step in _Unlove_ yet.

He's so smitten that it kind of hurts Rachel to say, "I'm really flattered, Daniel, but you know I just got out of a long term relationship. I just don't think I'm ready to move on yet."

She's expecting him to maybe pout sadly before leaving the studio with hunched shoulders, but it seems Daniel's a bit more perceptive than Rachel originally gave him credit for. Angela must be rubbing off on him, because it's pretty obvious Daniel's not in the least convinced by Rachel's bogus excuse.

"She doesn't even know how you feel about her."

Rachel was about three steps toward the exit, but Daniel's words have her frozen in surprise. She's almost too shocked to move but somehow manages to swivel around and face him again. "Who?"

"Santana," he says, shrugging a jerky shoulder.

Rachel's entire face heats up, yet she's not entirely sure if it's from embarrassment or anger. "How could she..." she starts, those three words trailing off into inelegant sputtering.

"How could who, what?"

"Angela, your talkative brain tumor," Rachel huffs, placing a hand on her hip. She deliberately told Angela not to tell anybody about this, meaning it was a secret from everyone, including Daniel. "She told you, didn't she?"

Eyes wide, Daniel frantically shakes his head. "What? No," he denies, hands raised defensively, but then his light eyes soften tremendously after a moment as he looks down and toes the ground sheepishly. "Rachel, I see the way you look at Santana but she doesn't even notice. I may not be the brightest, or whatever, but I'm not an idiot. Santana? She's the idiot for not seeing what I see in you."

Rachel clears her throat and glances around the nearly empty studio. A few nosy stragglers watch them as they pack up their belongings after class. Rachel looks to the ground with a blush when they catch her eye in the reflection of the mirror.

Daniel doesn't seem to notice the attention he's attracted. His eyes are glisteningly bright as he takes a step closer to Rachel. "If you ever looked at me the way you look at Santana," he says, flaring his nostrils and shaking his head, "I would never take it for granted."

Silence follows Daniel's confession as the last three dancers in class shuffle out of the studio, quietly murmuring to each other with stifled laughter. Rachel's eyes burn, but she holds in the tears.

She really wishes she could feel something for this incredibly sweet and thoughtful guy, but the thing is, she can't; not like how she feels for Santana. It just wouldn't be fair to neither him nor herself to pretend she likes him when she really doesn't.

"I'm sorry, Daniel, but..."

His hopeful expression slowly forms into a look of despondency. "But what?"

Rachel really doesn't want to hurt him, but she has no more excuses. "I...I can't," she whispers, shaking her head, and then walks out the studio, refusing to look back.

\--

She comes home to Santana and Kurt cooking in the kitchen. They move around each other seamlessly, reaching into the cupboards and cabinets, shaking out spices and herbs into a boiling pot on the stove.

Whatever they're making, it smells delicious, but Rachel doesn't really feel in the mood to eat. (Something tells her that whatever she tries to swallow would just come right back up anyway.)

Rachel doesn't greet them when she slips in—which is extremely rude, yes, but it would only make her feel even sicker to look at the girl who indirectly made her break Daniel's heart today—and then goes straight into her room.

Later, Santana calls, "Dinner's ready, boo!"

But Rachel stays in her room, face stuffed into her pillow with a muffled groan of agony.

\--

"Shit,” Angela curses, after Rachel tells her what happened with Daniel the other day.

Rachel nods with a sour expression. "Shit is right."

Stretching out her legs, Angela leans back on the couch and stares up at the ceiling. "I mean, I knew he liked you and everything, but jeez,” she mutters, biting down on the corner of her lip. “Now I feel like such a cruddy friend for using him like that to make Santana jealous."

If Angela feels cruddy, Rachel feels like a glorified ass for breaking his heart the way she did. She can still see his light browns shining so desperately every time she closes her eyes. The image has even tried to overrule a different pair of brown eyes, but to no avail. Santana's coquettish gaze will forever be stained in her brain.

Rachel bites on her thumb and groans. "Everything's so messed up. Daniel's such a great guy but he's not..."

"Santana,” Angela mumbles, rolling her eyes.

Rachel really tries not to smile; she really does, but whenever she hears that name, she just can’t help it. "Well, yeah, it's just,” she sighs, falling back on to Angela’s bed with a silly grin. “Santana's so...so—”

Angela cuts her off again, teasingly singing, "Santana," as she throws a pillow at Rachel from across the bedroom.

Rachel pouts through her smile and then throws the pillow right back. "I have a confession," she whispers, after falling back against the bouncy mattress.

“Another one?"

With a huff, Rachel watches as the fan above her spins around and around. It’s hypnotizing. Almost as hypnotizing as Santana’s eyes.

Sitting up slightly, propped up on her elbow, Rachel licks her front teeth thoughtfully and then says, "I’ve been trying so hard to get over Santana. I really have, but, well...I don't think I want to anymore. Sure, it hurts sometimes, but just thinking about her is, like, I don’t know.” Groaning, Rachel plops back again and presses the heel of her palms against her eyes. “I remember crushing on Finn and...it's never felt like this before."

Angela hums, thoughtful, before looking over to Rachel. "I can see you're clearly torturing yourself," she says, smiling sadly. "Will you just admit you love her already?"

Rachel sighs and shakes her head, because she won't let herself go there, no matter how much she's already in denial. "No," she sighs, throwing an arm over her eyes, "because once I admit it there's no going back."

\--

_5\. Get your feelings out_

She’s attempted journaling before; many times, actually, but each time it never really worked out. She’d always start off strong with entries about her feelings and whatever happened with Finn the day before, but then somehow she’d start scribbling down to-do lists and metaphors and a step-to-step plan on how she was going to make it as a star.

To refrain from making those same mistakes, Rachel decides to just _let go_. She buys a journal—a blue spiral with white tulips on the cover—grabs a black ink pen, sits down in the back of a coffee shop that's _not_ Cobblestones, and then jots down everything. Even the embarrassing stuff about Santana’s smile and how it lights up her entire face whenever she laughs hard enough to cry.

It doesn't even matter that her journal entries aren't in chronological order right now, or that her sentences are incomplete. Some of her paragraphs are simple words about how she feels. _Flustered. Inexperienced. Antsy_. Some pages only have a rough sketch of a bursting heart. Some entries are run-on sentences with different phrases underlined or circled or written over and over so many times that the word now looks like it's in **bold** , practically ripping through the thin, lined paper.

Rachel writes down quotes of things Santana's said to her; she reflects on entire conversations they've shared and copies that down too. By the time she's filled up half the book, all that's written in her journal is a bunch of unorganized chicken scratch about the last four months of her life.

She really thought she'd feel drained after releasing everything onto paper, but all it really does is remind her of why she likes Santana so much in the first place. It reminds her that Santana is still her roommate, and that she could possibly love this girl when she originally didn't even like her.

\--

She goes running and finds Sawyer on the bench. It's mid-January and it's still cold out, but Sawyer's here nonetheless. Sawyer's always here.

When she sits down beside him, he gives her a kind smile and tips his hat. They sit in silence for a while, until Rachel somehow finds the courage to whisper, "I think I might love her."

\--

_6\. Explore yourself_

She spends Sunday afternoon watching two minutes of every movie on Netflix. For whatever reason, Rachel doesn't really have the desire to watch an entire flick; she doubts she even has the attention span for that. The beginning of a movie is always the best part anyway, so Rachel revels in that, and if the movie is good enough she might even watch for a bit longer than two minutes.

But once the movie gets into the main plot of the story, Rachel finds herself switching to a different one. If she gets too into a film, her mind starts to wander during the slow parts, and that's never a good thing, so Rachel makes sure to turn it off right before it gets to the main storyline.

Rachel suspects this could count as exploring. _Unlove_ says that she needs to do things she's never done before, go places she's never gone before, experience new things that she's never experienced with Santana before, but Rachel doesn't really feel like leaving the couch today, and besides, Santana's not even here, probably out who-knows-where in the city with Cole dragging her around to odd eateries and stuffy bookshops.

So far, her two favorite movie beginnings have been _Love Actually_ and _Say Anything_. It doesn't escape her that both of those movies are love stories. One starts with a conversation about unrequited love while the other begins with a voiceover monologue about how there's love everywhere if you look close enough.

Rachel tries not to read too deeply into her (ironic) choices.

She's only thirty seconds into watching _Ghost_ when the metal door slides open and Santana staggers in with a brown paper bag full of books. Rachel doesn't take her eyes off the screen, just continues to watch blankly as Santana starts peeling off her coat and muttering under her breath about how cold it is outside. She's stomping out her boots on the welcome mat, unravelling her scarf and brushing off flurries of snow from her shoulders as Rachel shivers against the chill coming from the stairwell.

With a groan, Santana slides the door back into place. They don't say anything to each other—they hardly say anything at all nowadays that's not _pass the salt_ or _where's the remote_ anymore—as Santana walks past, kicking off her boots as she does so, and then hangs her coat up on one of the stools to dry off.

Rachel peeks her head up, because feigning nonchalance has never been her forte, only to find Santana looking back at her. They share a look, and Rachel feels a little guilty at the confusion in Santana's eyes, but then the moment is over when her roommate looks away and then shuffles behind her curtain.

Another five minutes pass—and Rachel's so suddenly distracted by Santana's arrival that she forgets to turn to a different movie—when Santana appears beside the couch in a grey pullover and black yoga pants.

Rachel tries not to look and keeps her eyes focused on the television. It's hard—pretending not to care all of a sudden, especially since she cares so much more than Santana will ever know—but she does it, and she's even a little proud of herself for being so strong, fighting against temptation and keeping her eyes away.

Eventfully, after standing around unsurely for a good two minutes, Santana plops down beside her, and Rachel takes a deep breath. "What are we watching?" she asks, her voice low and hesitant.

(Rachel is sure that Santana's noticed her distance. She's smart and intuitive, so of course she's noticed that Rachel's been strategically avoiding her for the last week and a half. Whether she knows _why_ is beyond Rachel. All she can hope is Santana remains clueless on the matter.)

"Ghost," she answers.

"The one with Demi Moore?"

"Yeah,” Rachel says, ignoring the fact Santana probably considers this Demi Moore’s movie rather than Patrick Swayze’s merely because she’s an attractive woman.

Santana nods, folding her arms over her chest. "Cool. Never seen it."

"Me neither."

Silence follows other than the sound of the movie. Santana shifts restlessly on the couch for a while, trying to get comfortable, until Rachel sighs a little louder than necessary. Santana looks at Rachel from out the corner of her eye, but she eventually stops moving around and then lets out a tired sigh of her own.

They sit side by side with only a cushion seat separating them. It's weird having Santana this close to her when it feels as if they're miles away from each other. All she'd have to do is reach over and Santana's hand would be touching hers, but Rachel doesn't move. Boundaries. Personal space. It's unknowingly become her mantra, but that doesn't stop her hand from sliding across the seat cushion.

Rachel doesn't take her eyes off the screen, but through her peripheral vision, she can see the muscles in Santana's hand twitching as it rests on her knee, just waiting for contact, just waiting to be held. And maybe Rachel's just imagining all of this, but then again maybe she's not. She'll never know, though, because as soon as she gains the confidence to stretch her arm out further across the cushion, conditions in the movie start getting hot and heavy on screen.

Rachel's heart stops beating for a moment, and she pulls her hand away as if she was just burnt. She side-eyes Santana, but her roommate doesn't look affected in the slightest. Maybe she didn't notice.

Rachel takes a steady breath and then looks back at the television. It's a little awkward, to say the least, watching a man put his arms around a woman and kiss up her neck on screen while sitting next to the girl you’ve been knowingly crushing on for the better part of a month now.

The guttural moan sounding from the speakers has a blush rising on Rachel's cheeks, but if she were to get up and leave, Santana would no doubt have suspicions, so Rachel stays right where she is and closes her eyes until it's over.

\--

Henry comes over for dinner on Friday, which isn't anything too out of the usual, but setting up is a lot more hectic than it should be, because Kurt's freaking out about this crazy idea that Henry wants to marry him.

It all sounds like a bunch of hoopla to Rachel. Sure, Henry's been known to jump the gun on occasion, but he's not delusional. Henry knows that Kurt's only 18 years old, nowhere near the age of maturity in terms of marriage and babies and forever settling down, so Rachel doesn't let herself worry about it too much.

An improbable marriage proposal is the last thing Rachel needs to concern herself over. Her main focus has been reared towards following those never-ending steps in the book Angela gave her. Rachel's more than halfway through it, and she _still_ feels miserably in love with her roommate. Angela really should get a refund or something.

Nothing she's done is working. She avoids Santana, and all Santana does is work extra hard in order to gain Rachel's attention. Rachel writes in her journal, but all that does is remind her of everything she loves about her roommate. She goes running to clear her head, but once she's at the park, the only thing she can talk to Sawyer about is how much she's come to rely on Santana as a friend in his big city, how she doesn't know how to give that up while ignoring her feels at the same time.

Dinner is an awkward affair. Santana and Henry banter back and forth for a while, playing sword fight with their forks over who gets the last piece of chicken, but that's probably the only _normal_ part of dinner, because then things get weird when Henry questions Rachel's sexuality—which is an incredibly odd turn to the discussion, but Santana doesn't even seem to notice because of how tipsy she is.

By the time Santana's having her second helping of mashed potatoes, it's quite obvious she's had one too many sips of wine. With a smirk, she leans over Rachel—forgetting all about the personal space and boundaries Rachel's been trying to set for the last three weeks—and then tries to steal a veggie roll from off Rachel's plate.

Rachel lets her take the food with a laugh because it reminds her of back before she had to get all weird and gain feelings for her best friend.

Eventually Kurt cuts in, giving both his roommates a weird look before explaining why he wouldn't want to go out on a double date with Cole LeBlanc. Then, somehow, Rachel's pulled into the conversation _again_ when asked whether or not she likes Cole's attire.

(She can't even recall how she answers the question because Santana's eyes are glued to her the entire time, coolly awaiting a response. Rachel thinks she says something along the lines of it being none of her business, and everyone seems to buy it and not pick up on the fact that she actually can't stand Cole to save her life.)

After dinner, Rachel's loading up the dishwasher as Santana wipes down the counter. They move around each other silently and seamlessly, like an old married couple who have been doing this exact routine for years.

The thought has a knot forming in Rachel's throat. She knows it's stupid to get choked up over something like this, but she doesn't have many friends as it is; the last thing she expected was to fall for the closest and most loyal girl friend she's ever had.

"Rach?"

Rachel glances over her shoulder before turning back to the sink. "Hmm?" she hums, and something lurches in her stomach when she hears Santana's footsteps shuffle closer across the hardwood floor.

Pausing in her stride, Santana breathes out a sigh. After a tense moment of silence, footsteps continue to round the counter carefully, and Rachel sets her shoulders up as a defense mechanism. She can almost feel Santana behind her, and then there's that voice again, husky and low, coming from right over her shoulder.

"We've got to stop this. Whatever this is," Santana practically whispers, her voice shaky and unfamiliar.

Rachel clenches her eyes shut and wills herself not to turn around. Curling her fingers around the edge of the sink, she bows her head.

She's followed all of the steps in the book. She's distanced herself, explored other avenues, and kept a stupid diary for over three weeks, but this knot she gets in her stomach whenever Santana's near still continues to haunt her. It's gotten to the point where she just can't take it anymore.

"You kissed me."

Can this even be counted as a confession? They both already know what happened; all Rachel's doing is verbally announcing it. She's making it real. It could have all been in her imagination. It might not have even existed, but voicing that there was a kiss, that she remembers the kiss, and that the kiss affected her in some way, is not only embarrassing, it's horrifying. But she stands her ground, and so does Santana.

"And you've been avoiding me.” There is no snark or attitude in her voice. She's merely stating a fact. Her dark eyes squint curiously; it's quite obvious she's been just as confused by the last few weeks as Rachel has.

Rachel shrugs, because avoidance is kind of an understatement compared to what she's really been doing. "Well, yeah," she says anyway.

"Why?"

"Why am I—" Rachel cuts herself off with a huff and stares at Santana in bewilderment. Does she really have no idea? She didn't think her roommate was this oblivious, _this_ ignorant to the emotions surrounding her, but if Santana doesn't even have an inkling of an idea that Rachel likes her, after everything that's happened between them over the last few weeks, then Santana really is _beyond_ clueless. "Why do you think, Santana? It was— _still is_ , actually—pretty shocking."

Santana squints, eyebrows knitted closely as she hesitantly paces around the counter. "Is it because I'm a girl?" she asks.

Rachel stares at her, mouth hanging open, because wherever did Santana get that idea? It's...that's just...okay, well, maybe it does explain Rachel's odd behavior a little bit, but not completely. There's so much more to the story, and Rachel wants so desperately to tell it, but she can't or else everything between them—their friendship, their living quarters, their trust—will be torn apart.

Clearly frustrated with this entire ordeal, Santana rolls her eyes and mutters, "It's because I'm gay, isn't it?"

Rachel blinks, unsure of how to answer that question. "Santana...what?"

Santana's shoulders rise stiffly. "This wouldn't be such a big deal if it was Daniel who had kissed you," she mumbles helplessly. "But because I'm a lesbian, a little smooch suddenly weirds you out. And, sure, I get it, or whatever. You don't swing that way, but that's not even what the kiss was about."

"That's..." Rachel trails off, pinching her eyes shut as she lowers her head, because this is just all too much at once. The kiss they shared was certainly more than just a little smooch. There was like, tongue and saliva involved. A little peck wouldn't have had Rachel freaking out for three weeks, and Santana knows that, which is why it takes so long for Rachel to open her eyes and say, "Santana, that's not why it shocked—"

"I promise, I don't have some stupid lesbian crush on you, okay?" Santana says tiredly, rubbing at her temples. "Because if that's what you're thinking, you really need to get over yourself."

Rachel deflates slightly. Tears sting at the corner of her eyes, but she takes a deep breath to keep herself together. "Santana," she says steadily, licking at her dry lips. "You know I've never had a problem with your sexual orientation."

Santana turns to look away, because she knows it's true. Rachel is the last person Santana should be accusing of homophobia considering who her dads are and that her two best friends are gay, for heaven's sake. Gay people surround her everywhere she turns.

Santana mutters something under her breath before letting out a huff and finally catching Rachel's eye. "Yeah, I know," she mumbles, leaning back against the counter. "It's just...we've only just become friends, Rachel. I never wanted to ruin that, but I feel like a kind of already did."

Rachel smiles sadly at Santana's honesty. She takes a cautious step forward. "You haven't ruined anything, Santana."

Brown eyes turn soft, and then the corners of Santana's lips inch upward. She looks so young, so breakable that Rachel can do nothing but stare at her unblinkingly and smile.

"Can we like," Santana breathes out a sigh and then tilts her head sideways. She looks shy, so Rachel nods supportively and waits for her to continue. "Can we...I don't know, forget all of this ever happened and go back to, you know, what we were?"

It's what Rachel expected, so it'd be silly to be disappointed by the realization that Santana only loves her as a friend. There's a silent beat, kind of tense and kind of hopeful. With a jerky bob of her head, Rachel says, "Of course, Santana. We can do that."

Santana rubs at the back of her neck self-consciously. "And we're cool?" she ventures hesitantly.

"Yeah, Santana," Rachel says eventually, attempting a smile she knows doesn’t reach her eyes. "We're cool."

Her response comes out weaker than she would have liked, but Santana remains blind to that as she grins triumphantly and then pulls Rachel into her arms. It's the first time they've hugged since the beginning of January. It's a little disconcerting how much Rachel's missed this, being held tightly in Santana's embrace, inhaling that intoxicating coffee bean scent.

"One word of advice though; when you kiss someone who's left-handed, you might want to consider tilting your head the other way," Santana jests, teasingly nudging her nose against Rachel's ear. "The position I was leaning in was crazy awkward."

She tries her best to laugh it off, but it's hard to fake mirth when what she really wants to do is sob against Santana's shoulder. "Thanks for the advice," Rachel says instead of crying, and then pulls away slightly. She needs space if she's going to avoid the tears stinging at the corner of her eyes. "So, um...what made you do it anyway?" She's setting herself up for disappointment—almost an everyday occurrence when it comes to her friendship with Santana—but it's not easy to fall out of bad habits.

"Do what? Kiss you?"

There's not an eye roll big enough in the world, but she attempts one anyway. "Yeah."

"You tasted like Jiffy."

"Santana," Rachel huffs, unimpressed, and then pulls away completely when Santana fails to respond.

Santana bites down on the corner of her lip, and Rachel can't stop her eyes from zoning in on that soft mouth of hers. "Well, other than because you tasted like peanut butter..." Santana trails off, grinning crookedly, but slowly that smile disappears with a distant look in her eyes. "See, after midnight, I was up thinking for a while."

Rachel's eyes widen unconsciously. "About?" she ventures, hoping Santana doesn't notice the slight inflection in her voice.

Santana smiles weakly, and then whispers, "Britt."

The confession shouldn't come as much of a surprise, but it does anyway. She's blind-sided, because while trying to ignore her feelings, she completely forgot about Santana's ex. Of course Santana isn't over Brittany Pierce. She may never get over her.

(How could Rachel be so stupid as to think that after just a few months Santana would willingly leave everything that happened between her and her ex behind just like Kurt and Rachel did?)

Santana's probably only keeping Cole around as a bed warner until Brittany graduates and moves out here. Rachel hates thinking that far ahead in terms of their friendship, because she always has a way of blending her expectations with her hopes and dreams, but Rachel's not going to delude herself either.

More than likely, if everything goes to Santana's unsaid plan, she'll end up moving out, find a nice cozy place with Brittany, thus leaving Rachel behind, because it's no secret Kurt will be shacking it up with Henry sooner or later.

(They're in love or something, and Henry already has his own place. There's nothing really stopping Kurt from leaving them behind now, and Rachel's admittedly puzzled on why he's even still here. It probably has something to do with the whole _Henry might propose to me after only three months_ thing, but even that's not as big a crisis compared to loving a girl who's in love with somebody else.)

Leaning over, Santana knocks her fist against the countertop, contemplative. "I was thinking about how I had B last year, and how you had Finn two months ago, and how fast things change," she says, quirking her lips into a grimace. Rachel sighs, leaning her back flat against the kitchen cabinets. She doesn't want to hear any of this, but she listens anyway. "They may have broken up with us, but that doesn't mean we have to suffer alone, right?"

"Um." Rachel huffs out a laugh. Her face feels hot. She never actually thought Santana had feelings for her—because that'll never be a thing—but it definitely didn't hurt to maybe imagine or pretend for a little while. "Right. Of course."

They stand in front of each other, silently; all that can be heard is the leaking sink and the noisy traffic honking and beeping distantly from the streets below. Rachel stares into space, sniffling every now and then, until she's distracted by Santana swaying to the side and leaning her hip against the kitchen counter. Rachel follows the movement subconsciously, and then absently wonders where Kurt's disappeared to.

"Sorry if I shocked you or whatever," Santana says, her voice oddly quiet. But her eyes are sincere, and Rachel can never resist those eyes.

Shrugging, Santana breathes out a sigh and then smiles, lips twitching into a teasing grin. Before Rachel can even move, she's once again enveloped in Santana's embrace, and she falls into her roommate's strong arms almost habitually, like it’s first instinct or something.

"It's just..." Santana whispers into her ear, causing goosebumps to form on Rachel's neck. "I was a little wasted, and you know how I get when I've had too much booze."

Rachel does know—unfortunately, she knows almost everything there is to know about her best friend—so with a weak smile that probably doesn't reach her eyes, Rachel nods her head against Santana's shoulder and murmurs, "Yeah. I know."

\--

_7\. Be more independent_

Rachel already had a plan for this step. She was going to stop going to Cobblestones once and for all and then sign up for this spinning class they offer for free on the weekends at NYADA. Except now, ever since making nice with Santana again, those plans have been severely altered. Instead of diligently avoiding Cobblestones, Rachel finds herself right in her usual spot in the back of the coffee shop as she finishes up some school work that's due next Wednesday.

They're talking again, thankfully, and Rachel's teary-paged copy of _Unlove_ is hopefully all the way at the bottom of the dumpster by now. Angela will probably be pissed when Rachel tells her she trashed it, but it was for the best. The book wasn't really working out anyway.

(It could be because the steps were made to last throughout three months and Rachel attempted to complete them in only a few weeks, but what can she say? She's never been very patient. Really, all that book managed to do was make her fall even harder for Santana, which is kind of the opposite of what was intended.)

Rachel's just pressing save on a project she's been working on all morning when she looks up and sees Henry approaching her table, his cheeks noticeably redder than usual. It's probably the cold, but then again, his face is always most flushed when he knows something juicy.

Rachel raises her head from her work to say hello, but Henry cuts her off and starts rambling about how much friendships mean to him, and that he's glad she and Santana are his friends (or something along those lines). It's a little difficult to catch much of anything he's saying by how fast he's talking.

"Henry," Rachel drawls suspiciously. "Are you okay?"

Henry glances behind him and then giggles, and Rachel wonders if it's emasculating to think he's the cutest man she's ever had the pleasure of meeting. "Of course," he says, frantically nodding his head. "It's just—...love is so beautiful, isn't it?"

Moderately confused but willing to play along, Rachel hesitantly nods her agreement, and then smiles at Kurt when he arrives at the table. Thankfully, Henry seems to calm down at the arrival of his boyfriend.

Rachel had no idea they were dropping by after Henry's poetry reading, but it's definitely a welcome surprise. They ask her about her classes, so she tells them about her dance routine, and how it's awkward working with Daniel now, and how Miss July has been backing off since the beginning of the new semester, and how she and Angela met this new girl named Gwen in their dance class who's going to sneak them into a Broadway show.

Kurt and Henry seem proud of her and kind of amused at the same time as they give each other weird looks and take sporadic sips of coffee throughout the conversation, but Rachel doesn't pay much mind to them, more distracted by Santana who keeps glancing up from what she's doing behind the register to make funny faces behind Kurt and Henry’s backs.

After finishing their coffees, Kurt and Henry leave earlier than intended when Henry starts to complain of a stomachache. Rachel hugs them both goodbye, and then catches Santana's eye from across the shop. Her roommate quirks an eyebrow in question, but all Rachel can do is shrug in response. Those boys and their silly excuses to rush off and _be alone_. She’ll never stop admiring their relationship.

\--

So, maybe this crush won't be such a bad thing after all. The way Rachel feels is validated. Santana's an amazing girl; she deserves to be liked and admired. It may be hard to see her with Cole and other women sometimes, but Rachel will get over it. Hopefully. Until then, she has an incredible best friend, and Rachel wouldn't give that up for the world.

If she remembers correctly, the last step in _Unlove_ was 'Start Fresh'. Rachel's kind of happy she threw that book out. Just the thought of entertaining the company of a prospective lover makes Rachel's stomach flip uncomfortably. Instead of bothering to shop around for someone who could distract her from Santana—which is a tactic that would be fair to neither Rachel nor another person—she decides to work on herself this year.

The last thing she needs is somebody to latch on to her and slow her down from reaching stardom. Rachel has to refocus and remember the real reason she's here: her name in lights, her smiling face on billboards, and the opportunity to sign her name— _Rachel Barbra Berry_ —across a hopeful little girl's Playbill.

It's not that she isn't inclined to the idea of having a boyfriend—or girlfriend—ever again. Not to sound too selfish, but Rachel would just rather have this year be about her. She's a freshman in college, and she's already facing one obstacle named Miss Cassandra July, as it is. She doesn't need or want any more meaningless distractions. It would just slow her down.

On the walk home from Cobblestones, Santana gives Rachel a hesitant look, but Rachel already knows what she needs. "Cold?" she asks.

Santana pokes out her bottom lip and then nods silently, so Rachel moves closer and then loops her arm through Santana's elbow. Sighing in relief, they huddle close together to fight off the cold, and Rachel only deliberates her actions for a good three seconds before leaning up and pressing a quick kiss to Santana's rosy cheek.

Santana smirks, rolling her eyes as her cheeks turn even redder. "Not that I'll ever dismiss the opportunity to mack," she says teasingly, hip-checking Rachel just for the hell of it. "But what was that for?"

That kiss could mean a lot of things. Rachel could go on for days explaining what it means to her, but she doesn't really have that kind of time nor the courage for that kind of honesty. "For being you," she says instead of everything else, cuddling up to Santana even more when a harsh breeze blows by. "I really missed you, Santana."

Santana bites her upper lip and then tenderly nudges her nose against Rachel's temple as they continue to walk. "You don't need to miss me, Rach," she says, interlacing their gloved hands together. "I'm not going anywhere."


End file.
